


Catharsis

by starberrydew



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ADHD, Anxiety, Fluff, Gen, Perfectionism, both my boys have rampant ADHD and perfectionistic tendencies ayyyy, but it's kind of irrelevant, technically set on the DSMP, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28113732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starberrydew/pseuds/starberrydew
Summary: They’re an unlikely pair, to say the least. You’d think, after all the rivalry and fighting, the arguing and one-upping, that they’d be bitter rivals, or at least distant from one another. But, as Dream watches Techno in the dead of the night, he can’t help but notice how sad he looks.Or, Dream wants to talk about his feelings. Techno takes a bit of convincing.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 242





	Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flextapebandaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flextapebandaid/gifts), [Qekyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qekyo/gifts), [manciissuperior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manciissuperior/gifts).



> okay I said last time I wasn't gonna post anymore, but... SIKE
> 
> for real though, enjoy the fic! it's gonna hit if you're a perfectionist :)
> 
> this fic is dedicated to:  
> Ness: nesssss thank you for always listening to me and my ramblings about mcyt and writing. I know you vibe with me on this wavelength and I hope you can relate to this fic (and maybe cry a lil) <3
> 
> NC: this fic is deep purple. the writing and metaphors are an inky, navy blue, but the lighthearted, cheerful parts and the way I feel writing this are soft pink. they mix together, still separate, but where they touch create a dark lilac. 
> 
> Noodle: 🌻🌻🌻 I love you!! I'm so happy that we're able to talk so earnestly, and I feel like I can share everything that I've sunk my heart into with you. it's still scary, but I trust you. thank you for being the dream to my techno :) 
> 
> (oh my god your names all start with n that's wild)

They’re an unlikely pair, to say the least. You’d think, after all the rivalry and fighting, the arguing and one-upping, that they’d be bitter rivals, or at least distant from one another. But, as Dream watches the pink-haired boy sit atop the building across from the election stage in the dead of the night, he can’t help but notice how _sad_ he looks. 

Techno sweeps his long braid over one shoulder, exposing more of his face as he stares up at the night sky. He swings his legs over the side of the building, rhythmically kicking against the hard stone. There’s something strangely vulnerable about it, something that makes the blond boy feel like he’s intruding on something private. He’s about to turn away and leave him be, but he hesitates for a moment. He supposes he sees something of himself in that gaze, searching the universe for answers that always seem to elude him. Before he knows it, Dream finds himself making his way to the base of the building.

His footsteps ground him as he springs from one foot to the other, the cogs of his mind turning as he tries to cobble together a plan for when he reaches the top. What he’ll say. What he’ll _do_. _God, I’m so unprepared for this._

Before his brain can kick into overdrive with ways in which this is a terrible idea, he’s scoured the stairs, and his head peaks out from the top of the roof exit. _No backing out now_. He climbs the last few steps in time to catch Techno tense up, from what he can see of his back, and quickly move an arm in front of his face.

“What do you want?” The pink-haired boy’s tone is as stoic as ever, verging on threatening. Of course he picks up the slightest of sounds. Dream dares to take a step closer.

“Nothing, really. Just thought you might…” He trails off, scratching the back of his neck with one hand whilst glancing off to the side. “Thought you might need a friend.” He edges closer still, tentative. He can feel the thick tension, the air a viscous fluid as he tries to wade through. Every movement is resisted, a struggle against the walls Techno carefully guards. “I’m not here to judge you.” He thinks that might be the right thing to say, because the other boy twists around to look up at him, a mix of confusion and wonder in his eyes.

The moment is frozen in time, floating in the air. Dream looks down at Techno, and for the first time in a long while registers him as more than just an ominous presence. He finds his humanity in messy loose strands of pink hair, in his red-ringed eyes and the faint tear tracks staining his cheeks. As the other stares up at him, his vulnerability on display, he seems delicate. Fragile. He’s _human_.

Just as quickly as it stopped, time seems to stutter back into motion as the pink-haired boy quickly turns away from him, conscious of his appearance. Dream debates with himself for a moment before deciding to slip his mask off, leaving the white smiley face to rest on the ground.

He takes the final steps he needs to stand next to him, promptly lowering himself to the ground and letting his legs hang over the edge like Techno’s. Taking a moment to observe the night sky, the blond boy has to catch himself from getting wrapped up in awe of its beauty. He searches for the right words to begin, eyes flicking to the other boy and he picks over loose grammar and vocabulary in his brain. “So,” he settles on. _Fuck_.

“So.” Techno echoes, still starting steadfastly out at the moon. Well, that went well.

Silence lingers briefly as he tries to think of what to say next. Looking out into the vastness of the night, Dream is struck with an idea. “The moon’s quite pretty, don’t you think?” He offers, searching the other’s face nervously for signs of a response. 

“...yeah. I do think so.” Dream barely catches him sneaking a glance at him, eyes curious, but not particularly cautious. 

“It’s kind of- it’s amazing,” He pauses to breathe deeply, returning once again to the universe, a great navy canvas speckled with gleaming stars. Maybe he’ll get answers tonight. Maybe _they_ will. That is, if he’s right in his interpretation. Swallowing sudden nerves, the blond continues, “that universe is so vast. And beautiful. And we’re here, gazing up at it, like it isn’t some incredible phenomenon. Well, people typically do, I mean. I’ve always… I-” Dream’s getting caught up in his words, not quite able to express what he wants but scrabbling to do it anyway. 

“You’ve always been in awe of it? You’ve always appreciated it the way it should be?” Techno supplies, turning to the other boy ever so slightly. He wears a small smile, seemingly amused by Dream’s antics.

“There’s the English major I know,” He grins, pushing his arm playfully. 

The pink-haired boy smirks, “Please, I’ve come up with much better than that.” Dream seizes the opportunity while he can.

“Oh have you now?” Dream’s grin widens, proud of being able to catch him out.

Techno’s smirk drops the second he realises what had just occurred. “No, no, no,” he shakes his head, “no you don’t, Dream.” 

“Can’t a friend trick another friend into being emotionally vulnerable?” He pouts, and the other rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know why I tolerate you.” He jokes. But Dream knows he’s ready to share when he shifts slightly to sit up straighter, turning his gaze back to the sky. _Mission accomplished_. 

“I suppose…” He starts, taking a little while to deliberate in silence. His hands move to fidget with his long hair, twisting the braid around his finger in repetitive spirals. Techno’s gaze lingers on the bejewelled expanse for a moment longer, before he begins to speak again.

“Usually people don’t create metaphors to describe the universe; it’s the other way round.” His eyes flick to Dream, silently searching for feedback he won’t admit to needing. He smiles slightly, and gives a nearly imperceptible nod. He has to save the guy’s ego somehow.

“Space is already so ethereal that you can’t possibly describe it by earthly means. So people use the universe to describe the most remarkable things they can think of, like love, or hope, or truly understanding someone.” He shifts, winding his hair around a different finger. “It’s a testament to how deeply an admiration of the universe is entrenched in us. Whenever we find something that is emotionally powerful enough to move us, we turn to the stars and the galaxies, forces like gravity and magnetism, to explain how it feels.” Techno stops swinging his legs momentarily, and a strange look of contemplation crosses his face, but it’s quickly masked with a neutral expression.

Dream mulls over saying something more to encourage him to open up, but the other boy seems to make the decision for him. Toying with the hem of his robe, he speaks again, more softly this time. “The universe is so effortlessly perfect.” He pauses, and looks like he might say something else, but quickly stamps in down. 

_Effortlessly_. The blond boy ponders the significance of his word choice, turning the phrase over in his head, scrutinising its every meaning. He pauses when he realises what he’s doing. Could this be what he means? A longing for a life without the constant overthinking, doing and redoing, all to find the perfect way to exist? When he looks at Techno again he sees his words in a new light, and wonders how truly he understands what he feels. 

How could he not understand? Everything he says is deliberate, perfectly crafted to be the best he can offer. Someone who always thinks before he speaks, determined to never say anything embarrassing, or communicate something inaccurate. Someone who attaches so much of themselves to everything they do, pouring their heart and soul into everything they like and every choice they make until even the thought of rejection is painful. Even Dream himself is far more open to rambling to try to best convey what he means. How could someone like Techno _not_ understand?

He nearly doesn’t say anything, still caught up in the need to present a better part of himself at all times. Caught up in the fear of being rejected. But as he catches a glimpse of the moon and its shimmering surface, he thinks of his own words to the other; _I’m not here to judge you._ Maybe it goes both ways. 

“Techno, I…” The pink-haired boy turns to look at him properly for the first time. His cheeks are still tinged with red, but his eyes aren’t watery anymore. _Good_. “I know what you mean.” Dream tries to pour as much feeling as he can into it, “ _Effortlessly_.” The other’s face lights up in recognition. “It’s almost cruel, how the sky seems just out of our reach. You reach higher and higher to grasp it, but it always lingers, inches away. It isn’t really, though. You’ll never truly reach it, because the sky is a myriad of imperfect things, not one solid object.” He sucks in a breath, eyes tracing constellations in the stars. “It taunts us with an unattainable ideal.” 

“Yeah.” Tencho exhales, nodding. “Yeah,” he repeats himself, and the blond boy knows that means he really, truly gets it. “I wish… I wish I could be perfect that easily. Without having to put all of my thoughts into every action and every word, to create a manufactured flawlessness.” He winces at the syllable repetition, and Dream wonders that if given the chance, he’d change that too. _It must suck to be a perfectionistic English major_. 

The pink-haired boy draws his legs in, wrapping his arms around them as though he could keep his words close to his chest, that they might stay trapped without escaping into the world. “But sometimes, I find myself romanticising imperfection, too.” His voice is softer. Techno’s guard may be down, but he’s still afraid of the consequences of sharing too much of himself. 

“Like, being messy? Saying what comes to mind without crafting it first? Literally just saying anything without nitpicking every bit of how it sounded?” Techno quickly nods again in reply.

“I hate it. I hate how the constant need for absolutely everything to make sense and be perfect bleeds into your life, seeping into your words and actions and draining you of your ability to be carefree. To relax,” he says. The pink-haired boy shakes his head as if to clear it, hands going to his long braid once again. “I still don’t get how people can share what they love. From the names you like the sound of, to a show that completely unpacks who you are as a person, it’s… terrifying.” He runs his hands over the threads of his hair, woven amongst each other. 

“Whenever I say something, I feel like I’ve been dunked in ice water, numbing my nerves and freezing me to the spot. I can’t think about anything until I get positive feedback. And if what they say isn’t completely supportive…” He pulls his hair tie out, letting his braid slowly unravel, watching as the strands twist apart and fall away. “It _hurts._ ” When he finishes, his voice is near silent. Nothing but a whisper. 

Dream knows the feeling all too well. It’s why he talks and talks, even though every word he adds drives the knife a little deeper into his chest. “Yeah. I can’t stand the uncertain silence, no matter how brief. I tend to ramble a lot, I know, but it’s much better than having to leave an unsatisfying sentence to be judged. Words that don't feel like me, that aren’t a perfect representation of my thoughts and feelings. Because nothing crushes me quite like my words not resonating with who I say them to.” 

Techno affirms him with a “yeah,” blinking slightly at the intensity of their conversation. It looks like it hadn’t quite hit him just how vulnerable he was being until that moment. Techno sweeps his pink hair over his shoulder, letting it fall over his back, and he stares down over the city. As his eyes roam over buildings in the distance, the blond boy wonders if he should hug him.

He nearly hesitates, but stops himself before he can back out. _Fuck it_. Dream leans forward, catching the other by surprise; his eyes widen and he flinches away instinctively. The blond boy pauses, arm midway towards wrapping around his shoulder. They both seem to catch themselves, staring at each other for a moment and processing what had just happened.

Dream reacts first, lowering his arm sheepishly. He scratches the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his. Techno slowly relaxes, like he’d forced himself to do so. He looks away to disguise his embarrassment before hooking an arm around Dream’s shoulder, pulling his head down to rest on his own shoulder. It’s strange, a little awkward, but welcome.

As he looks back up at the sky, the universe still does nothing but sparkle prettily at him, taunting him with its perfectly imperfect beauty. Dream realises he’s never quite felt this before. Truly understanding someone else. It really is something to compare to all the stars and the galaxies, the alignment of planets and the powerful force of gravity. 

Maybe they don’t need the universe’s answers. Who needs answers when you have someone to relate to, flaws, fears and all?

**Author's Note:**

> ayyy you've made it to the end! hope you enjoyed the ride :)
> 
> this fic is just one big ol' vent ft. dream and techno as my last 2 braincells


End file.
